


Elevator Mayhem

by Jude81



Series: Tumblr Prompts [5]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Humor, Oops, Spilled coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 13:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17203895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jude81/pseuds/Jude81
Summary: Tumblr Prompt: Clexa have just met but already hate each other. Now they're stuck in a malfunctioning elevator and one of them is wearing the other one's coffee.... but they still kiss by the time the elevator is up and running again





	Elevator Mayhem

“Look, I said I was sorry about the coffee.”

Lexa ignored the other woman as she tried to mop up the coffee stain that had managed to spread almost entirely across the front of her white, button down shirt. She winced as she dabbed at the edges of her jacket lapel, glad that most of the coffee had been soaked up by the shirt and not the expensive suit jacket. The shirt was just one of half a dozen exactly like it, but the suit jacket was her favorite.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that some train-wreck of a woman had barreled onto the elevator just as the doors were closing and managed to spill Lexa’s coffee all over herself, but the elevator ground to a shuddering halt almost as soon as the doors had closed. A quick call to maintenance with the emergency phone had confirmed that something was wrong with the gear shaft, but they weren’t in any danger. Supposedly. It would be fixed in about thirty minutes.

She tried not to think about what thirty minutes alone with a clearly deranged woman in a small, metal box with limited oxygen meant for her own life sustainability. She had never been particularly keen on closed spaces, and normally she took the stairs, but she had been late for a last-minute meeting: a meeting she hadn’t wanted to attend at all, but she had been unable to weasel her way out of it.

“Jeez, you don’t need to be such a cold bitch about it,” huffed the blonde as she set her large leather case and canvas bag on the elevator floor, papers spilling out of the top.

“Cold bitch?!” Lexa froze mid-mop, her mouth hanging open slightly at the audacity of the other woman. “Well, if you weren’t a blonde hurricane and were more organized, you wouldn’t have crashed into me,” muttered Lexa with disgust as she carefully folded her handkerchief and tucked it back into her black suit pants. The shirt was a lost cause, and there was no use wasting more time on trying to fix the damage.

“Blonde?!” sputtered the other woman, as she pushed said blonde hair out of her eyes. “Was that your lame attempt at a fucking blonde joke? I’ve heard them all, so don’t even try.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, cocking one hip slightly in what she hoped was a power stance. For despite their almost same height, the other woman was rather imposing in the dark suit, and once crisp white shirt. Her jawline alone looked like it could cut her, and her mossy, green eyes were cold and aloof.

Lexa sighed and tucked her hand into her pocket, the other hand white knuckling the strap of her slim briefcase. “No, ‘blonde’ is simply a descriptor,” she shrugged a little. “Not like I could call you a curvy hurricane,” she muttered staring straight ahead at the number panel.

“You just fucking did,” Clarke pointed out. She narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips, her voice dropping slightly. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

“Oh my God,” muttered Lexa. She could fee the start of a headache blooming behind her eyes, and she squinted her eyes in a vain effort to stave off the pain.

“No, you are beautiful.” She almost snarled the last word, not really wanting to admit to this frustrating creature that the first thing she’d noticed about her was that despite her messy entrance into Lexa’s neatly ordered life, the woman was beautiful.

Clarke was surprised by the other woman’s admission, and she let her arms drop down to her hip as she leaned back against the railing. She smirked a little, her day had certainly taken a turn for the better, or at least for the interesting.

“You think I’m beautiful.”

“No.”

“But you just said…”

“Please stop talking. Just…please.” Lexa rubbed her palm across her forehead and then pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to quell the slight nausea in her belly. The headache was certainly not going to leave on its own and her pills were in her desk.

“It’s bad enough that we are stuck in this…” She grit her teeth trying not to raise her voice, as her patience was wearing thin, “elevator without you…” She didn’t bother to finish the sentence, just waving her hand in Clarke’s vague direction.

“What? Breathing? Should I stop doing that also?” Sassed Clarke as she put her hands behind her to grip the railing and leaned forward slightly. She grinned when she saw Lexa stiffen slightly. Clearly the woman had excellent peripheral vision and had seen the way Clarke’s new stance amplified some of her…assets.

“No, of course you shouldn’t stop breathing. Don’t be ridiculous,” muttered Lexa as she stared straight ahead, trying not to look to the side, having already managed to catch a glimpse of Clarke’s ample cleavage. She could feel the blush heat her cheekbones, and she prayed the other woman wouldn’t notice.

“You’re a bit red in the face.”

Obviously, some prayers weren’t going to be answered, and the universe hated Lexa.

“It’s warm in here,” but her excuse sounded weak even to her own ears.

“Uh huh.” Clarke said nothing more, taking pity on the woman. For the moment.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stop breathing?”

“Oh God…just…why are you so infuriating?!” Lexa spun on her heel and faced Clarke, wincing at the impish grin on the other woman’s face.

“Infuriating? Really? I thought I was curvy and beautiful?” She let go of the railing and took a small step forward, grinning at the way Lexa’s eyes betrayed her and swept down across her chest, before abruptly going back to her face. She congratulated herself on her choice of the thin scooped neck t-shirt.

Lexa blushed again and groaned, looking away, knowing she’d been caught. And she had the disquieting notion that she had done exactly what the other woman wanted.

“Nothing is going right today,” she sighed. She shook her head, eyes staring fixedly beyond Clarke’s shoulder. “I have to deal with some artist bum today that my partner insisted…absolutely insisted, we hang his paintings in the lobby to make it more welcoming.” She scoffed, “it’s probably some generic, art shit you see in run-down hotels. Not that Anya actually gives a shit. No, this has her girlfriend’s hand written all over it. Apparently, she is friendly with this bloke.”

Lexa blushed when she came to the end of her tirade, her eyes flicking to Clarke’s face, noting the way her blue eyes sort of gleamed, the way her lips turned up at the corners, giving her an almost impish quality.

“Who is the artist?”

It took her a minute to realize Clarke had spoken. “I don’t know. Clark something or other.”

Clarke laughed and shook her head, “Oh you really are not going to enjoy this, but I am.” She stuck out her hand waiting until a surprised Lexa took it. “Hi, I’m Clarke Griffin. The blonde, curvy, beautiful artists bum with the shitty hotel art.”

“Fuck me,” groaned Lexa, embarrassment clawing its way out of her chest.

“Well, ok, but I am a little old fashioned. I like to take my ladies out to dinner before I fuck them.”

Lexa choked, suddenly thankful that Clarke had spilled Lexa’s coffee all over herself, and thereby managed to avoid a humiliating spit-take.

“Don’t let the jeans and t-shirt fool you, especially the t-shirt, which you really seem to like.” Clarke winked at Lexa. “But my work is in galleries all up and down the East Coat and sells for thousands of dollars.”

Lexa could only nod numbly. This day had gone from bad to humiliating, and it was still only nine in the morning.

“Look, I might have something you might like.” Clarke unzipped the large leather case, “This is my portfolio. These are pictures of some of the paintings I was bringing by to show…” She chuckled, “well I guess to show you.”

She flipped a few pages until she found what she was looking for. The original was done in bright oils, two figures huddled under an umbrella, walking down a wet street, street lights glowing in the rainy night.

Lexa peered closely at it, a bit in awe of the blues and reds and blacks swirling together to create the feeling of solitude and peace. “I…wow…this is really…I had no idea.”

“Thank you.” Clarke started to flip a few more pages when Lexa reached out and tapped a page, her finger landing on the corner.

“What is this one.”

“Oh this isn’t for you,” chuckled Clarke, blushing a little. “It was commissioned by a friend of mine, and I have to deliver it tomorrow. It’s…well…lovers.”

“Clearly,” murmured Lexa as she stared at the two women entwined in what was obviously post-coital bliss.

“It’s really…I mean…” She blushed and rubbed the back of her neck. “I am actually paid a lot of money for my eloquence in board meetings.”

“Don’t worry, I have that effect on women,” teased Clarke as she winked at Lexa.

“I bet,” muttered Lexa as she straightened a little and looked at her watch, realizing the elevator was supposed to be fixed any moment, and she was suddenly regretting it.

Clarke carefully closed her portfolio and set it down at her feet. “So do you hate me less now than you did twenty minutes ago?”

“I didn’t hate you,” protested Lexa.

“Oh really, Commander. The look you gave me when I spilled your coffee…well, I was pretty fucking sure you were an Ice Queen that had just frozen hell making Satan himself piss his pants.”

“I’m not that bad!” Lexa smiled slightly and gave Clarke a little shrug.

“You can make it up to me by saying yes.” Clarke inched closer to Lexa, her breasts brushing against Lexa’s.

“T-to what?” Lexa swallowed thickly, her eyes almost crossing as she strained not to look below Clarke’s face.

“Just say yes,” murmured Clarke leaning in just enough so that Lexa could feel her breath against her lips.

“Yes.”

“Good, girl,” murmured Clarke as she brushed her lips against Lexa’s, smiling at the way Lexa’s eyes fluttered shut.  

“Dinner tonight.” She leaned back in, pressing her lips to Lexa’s, smiling at the way the other woman opened her mouth just enough for her to slip her tongue inside for a taste.

The elevator jolted to life, throwing Clarke hard into Lexa. Lexa winced when the railing bit into her back, but her arms were sure and strong around Clarke, who was now pressed tight against her.

“What is your name?” Clarke reached up, tangling her fingers in Lexa’s long hair, her lips against her cheek.

“Alexandria.”

“I’m going to call you Lexa.”

Lexa carefully pushed away from the wall, still holding Clarke tightly. She huffed a little. “No one calls me Lexa.” She frowned.

“I do.”

“But I…” Lexa laughed, “Uff. Ok, I give up.”

Lexa wrapped her arms tighter around Clarke, thanking the universe for spilled coffee and stuck elevators.


End file.
